The door to Follen’s office moved without hardly a whisper of movement on the other side, and there the doctor stood smiling, a perfect portrait of himself.  He’d trimmed his beard in, thin and close to his face, kept his hair swept neatly. Follen didn’t wear his coat often, favoring a selection of simple button-ups, and the occasional tie. Very muted, very warm, very comforting. He looked like the sort of person you could approach at any time of the day, for any reason big or small, and given his line of work that was likely intentional. 

“[color=lightblue]Quinn! What a lovely surprise, I wasn’t quite sure when I'd see you next.[/color]” He ushered her inside, closing the door behind her to a crack, as she liked. His room was blanket-warm and fresh-scented, almost like citrus. Her chair was settled in the same spot, and as he made his way back across his desk, she could see her file set out. Always ready for her, whenever she needed. 

He sat down, elbows propped up, hands folding together. His smile turned contemplative, and his eyes searched her carefully behind his glasses. 

“[color=lightblue]How are you feeling? I hope you’ve recovered a bit since the other day. You seem a little better, and I heard you slept quite heavily. That’s good, now and then we all need a long rest. Tell me, what would you like to talk about, today?[/color]”